CHAPTER 420: CHAPTER 420: EPILOGUE (VI) (GRAND FINALE)

"It’s over!" Seeing the massive dragon’s mouth lunging toward him, Raymond tried to control Copperfire to evade. However, he soon felt an invisible force wrapping around him, a restraint that locked both him and Copperfire in place. No matter how they struggled, they couldn’t break free and could only watch helplessly as the giant dragon prepared to swallow them whole.

Just as the Ice Dragon’s jaws were about to snap shut around them, it suddenly halted, lifting its head to look up at the sky.

Raymond, who had narrowly escaped death, also looked up—and to his shock, the blizzard had stopped. The sky was now blanketed with dark clouds, and lightning flickered back and forth among them, weaving a net that seemed capable of trapping even the colossal Ice Dragon.

Sensing the threat, the Ice Dragon abandoned its prey, flapping its enormous wings and climbing rapidly, trying to pierce through the clouds and escape their reach.

However, no matter how fast it climbed, it could not outrun the lightning. In an instant, countless bolts converged into a single massive pillar of lightning, thick as a waterfall, and slammed down onto the Ice Dragon’s head. The bolt pierced through its body, tearing it apart, and sent the broken remains crashing into a mountain below, gouging a massive crater into the rocky terrain.

The residual energy did not dissipate. Instead, it radiated outward in all directions, splitting the earth with searing cracks, toppling trees, and burning deep, ugly scars into the ground. The frozen aura intertwined with the lightning quickly blanketed the area, extinguishing the fires and covering the earth beneath a thick layer of ice, blending it into the already frigid landscape.

Raymond, though safe for now, did not flee. Instead, he guided the equally terrified Copperfire in slow circles above, peering down at the devastation below.

Before long, he saw a figure standing in the center of the crater, with another figure lying motionless at his feet.

Though Raymond didn’t recognize the man lying down, he immediately noticed the armor he wore—an exact match to his own Banished Knight armor. Coupled with everything he had just witnessed, perfectly matching the old legends, Raymond was almost certain: the man standing in the pit was none other than His Majesty, the Divine Emperor Lynd Tarran I.

The realization filled Raymond with overwhelming excitement. He urged Copperfire to descend, landing beside the enormous crater. Leaping down, he rushed to the side of the man standing there, eager to speak—only to be stopped by a simple gesture.

The man motioned him to stay silent, then turned to the fallen figure and spoke.

"You still haven’t given up, Lord Willas? What is it this time? Thirty-seven tries, or thirty-eight?"

"Thirty-seven," rasped the figure on the ground, his body half-destroyed, the other half charred black from the lightning strike.

"Is that so? Thirty-seven..." The standing man sighed, then said, "You should know by now—I will never allow you to head south. And you must realize your time is almost up. The Long Winter will end soon. If you don’t return to sleep in the Land of Always Winter, you will vanish from this world forever, unable to return."

"I know," the fallen man replied, his voice calm, "but I still want to try. I refuse to become the next White Walker Queen."

The standing man fell silent for a moment, then sighed again. Without any more words, he drew the Banished Knight’s greatsword and plunged it into the other man’s chest.

The rune-forged power of the blade instantly shattered the fallen man’s body into countless shimmering ice crystals that scattered across the crater.

After sliding the greatsword back into its scabbard, the man turned toward Raymond, his eyes sweeping over him and his armor with a critical gaze. With evident disdain, he said, "A poor imitation. You didn’t even use proper star metal. And the engravings are all wrong—full of made-up embellishments. Let me guess, you based this thing off the statues in the churches?"

Raymond flushed with embarrassment. As the man had guessed, his armor had indeed been crafted by copying the statues found in various temples. Since every church depicted the Divine Emperor a little differently, he’d pieced together bits and pieces, filling in gaps and inventing details where needed.

"It seems you are one of my descendants." The man removed his helmet, revealing a face identical to the divine emperor’s statues and portraits.

Although Raymond had already guessed the man’s identity, now that he was face-to-face with the legendary ancestor—the god who once walked the earth—his heart still surged with overwhelming excitement. His breathing quickened uncontrollably, and his head spun slightly.

"Calm down, calm down!" Hearing the hurried breaths inside the helmet, Lynd spoke up, "I think you’d better take off your helmet and breathe some fresh air. It’ll help."

At Lynd’s suggestion, Raymond immediately removed his helmet and took deep, steadying breaths.

Seeing Raymond’s uncovered face, Lynd paused for a moment. From the color of Raymond’s hair and eyes, it was clear he came from Daenerys’s bloodline—the Valyrian traits were simply too distinct.

"Whose descendant are you?" Lynd asked.

Raymond steadied his emotions and answered earnestly, "My ancestor was Aegon Tarran. Counting from you, I am the twenty-seventh generation. My father is Augustus VII, and the current Regalus, Rhaegar III, is my elder brother."

"The descendant of little Aegon became the heir to the throne? Looks like some major changes happened in the Tarran royal family." Lynd raised an eyebrow, recalling the image of Aegon Tarran—Daenerys’s second son—from his memories. When Lynd had left the empire, Aegon was only a seventeen-year-old boy enjoying his studies at the Citadel.

Back then, Nymeria’s line was flourishing—Augustus and the others already had several descendants—while Daenerys’s line was thin, having only two sons, Rhaegar Tarran and Aegon Tarran. Aegon had been conceived when Daenerys was forty, making him the same age as Caesar’s youngest son.

When Lynd left, Rhaegar had just fathered his first son. It had seemed that Daenerys’s bloodline always struggled with fertility.

He never imagined that Daenerys’s descendants would one day sit upon the imperial throne. Without a major upheaval, such an anomaly would never have happened.

Raymond explained, "Seventy-four years ago, a great plague broke out across the empire. Regalus Caesar III died of illness without leaving a will. The rest of the royal family fell gravely ill as well, except for my ancestor, His Majesty Aegon I. So the Parliament, the Small Council, the churches, the Black Cave, and the Citadel all supported him ascending to the throne. Even after the plague subsided and other royal members recovered, none of them attempted to reclaim the crown."

"Seventy-four years ago?" Lynd’s face turned thoughtful. After a moment, he asked, "Which month? When did the plague strike?"

"The Month of Mist," Raymond replied.

A look of realization crossed Lynd’s face. With a slightly awkward smile, he said, "That might have something to do with me. Fortunately, it was just a plague and didn’t cause anything worse."

Raymond’s face showed curiosity, but Lynd clearly had no intention of explaining further and simply let the matter drop.

...

"It should be Copperfire, right?" Lynd walked to the edge of the pit and approached the giant dragon. Copperfire, seemingly recognizing him, immediately lowered its massive head, rubbing against Lynd affectionately and inviting a gentle stroke.

Raymond’s eyes widened. Though he had tamed Copperfire and become its rider, the dragon had never shown such intimacy toward him. Their bond was more that of a commander and subordinate: Raymond gave orders, and Copperfire obeyed.

Only now did he remember—Copperfire had been raised by Lynd. Its affectionate behavior made perfect sense.

Lynd turned back to look at Raymond and said, "You managed to become Copperfire’s master, to wear the Banished Knight’s armor, to wield the Banished Knight’s greatsword, and you bear the aura of the dragon runes. It seems you have completed the full Divine Emperor’s trial?"

Raymond straightened his back proudly and replied, "Your Majesty, I am the only royal descendant to have ever passed your Divine Emperor’s trials. I have also accepted the Storm Dragon Rune. My name now carries ’Storm’ as a middle name."

"Very good, very impressive." Lynd smiled at him and added, "And so you grew arrogant enough to completely ignore the fact that dragons would attract Ice Dragons, daring to venture alone into Westeros?"

Raymond heard the clear disapproval in Lynd’s tone. Though he desperately wanted to defend himself, he couldn’t find the words and could only lower his head in shame.

Lynd stepped back and ordered Raymond, "Mount your dragon and leave here immediately. Do not return to Westeros until the Long Winter has completely ended."

Raymond didn’t argue. He nodded obediently, indicating he would leave right away. Yet he hesitated, then tentatively asked, "Your Majesty, could you grant me a token? Something to prove that I met you here."

"Put away your scheming thoughts," Lynd said, as if seeing straight through him. "Keep today’s events locked in your heart. Not a single word about it is to leave your lips. Understood?"

Raymond’s face showed a trace of unwillingness, but he dared not defy Lynd. He could only bow his head and reply, "Yes, I shall obey Your Majesty’s command."

Almost the moment Raymond finished speaking, the dark clouds in the sky vanished without a trace. Then, a four-winged dragon appeared above, and an overwhelming, invisible pressure blanketed the land.

Under this force, Raymond was forced to kneel, pressing his forehead against the cold earth. Even Copper Fire, the proud dragon, flattened its body to the ground, wings spread wide, head bowed low in complete submission.

"Sacred Dragon Deltos!" At that moment, Raymond finally understood why, in all the old tales, Deltos was called the King of Dragons, the Dragon God. It truly felt divine—only a god could radiate such awe-inspiring power.

Lynd did not command Deltos to land. Instead, he rose into the air, leaping lightly onto Deltos’ back. Without sparing his descendant another glance, he ordered the dragon to fly north, toward the remains of The Wall.

...

When Lynd had first sensed the Ice Dragons heading south, he had already expected he would encounter one of his descendants—after all, only the presence of a giant dragon could lure an Ice Dragon down from the far north.

Devouring a dragon would greatly help Willas suppress the Cold God’s corruption and strengthen the foreign evil god’s power within him, aiding his transformation.

Yet Willas, bound by the Cold God’s influence, was unable to cross the sea to Sothoryos. He could only lie in wait, hoping a dragon would eventually come to Westeros—and when one did, he would strike.

...

When Lynd himself had first come to Westeros, he had been hunted by Ice Dragons. Their appearance had shocked him, because in his memories, the Queen of the White Walkers had long since perished, and creatures like Ice Dragons, born from the magic of the Cold God, should no longer have existed.

For a long time after, Lynd searched for an explanation but found nothing—until the end of the Long Night, when the Tarran royal family organized an expedition, riding dragons to survey Westeros. Then, Ice Dragons reappeared, and Lynd uncovered the truth: the Ice Dragon was none other than Willas Tyrell, transformed.

...

Long ago, Willas had possessed the Three-Eyed Crow and journeyed into the Land of Always Winter. There, he had been wounded by the Queen of the White Walkers, his soul damaged, his body paralyzed. From that moment, the power of the Cold God had begun to invade him. Only the protection of Garth Greenhand’s magic kept him from being immediately turned into a White Walker.

Later, when even Garth’s power could no longer shield him, Willas sought refuge at The Wall, using its ancient magic to resist the Cold God’s further corruption.

During that time, Lynd had found Willas’ body buried in an icy cavern, but by then, Willas’ soul had already undergone a fundamental change. He had become a vessel for two immense forces: the Blackstone Source and the Cold God. In doing so, Willas had embarked on an unprecedented path toward godhood.

Lynd did not particularly care whether Willas ultimately achieved divinity. Having already completed the final step himself, Lynd saw little benefit in becoming a god.

But if Willas’ ascension meant sacrificing the lives of the entire world, then no matter what, Lynd would not stand by and watch.

Thus, he had spent all these years searching for Willas’ true location. Only just now had he succeeded in marking Willas’ soul with a traceable mark. Now, all that remained was to travel north, reach the Land of Always Winter, and end everything.

With Deltos flying at full speed, it took Lynd only two hours to travel from Summerhall to the ruined Wall, pass through its shattered remains, cross the Haunted Forest, and continue northward, into the frozen heart of the Land of Always Winter.